


Le Laid

by americalovesthecockpit



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Franada - Freeform, M/M, Smut, lulz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:36:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americalovesthecockpit/pseuds/americalovesthecockpit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada and France accidentally end up sharing a hotel room together. They watch bad porn, reminisce about Canada's awkward discovery of sex, and eventually have le sexy times. Silly Franada.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Laid

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my friend who wanted some Franada in a hotel :D
> 
> Oh, and some of the "French" in this is intentionally wrong. Don't bother correcting me, as it is for the lulz.

"I'd like to extend my stay one extra night."

The lady behind the hotel desk didn't even look up from her computer.

So Canada raised his voice louder. "Excuse me, ma'am? I'm not sure if you could hear me, but I said I wanted to stay another night."

The clerk still didn't look up. She just clicked away at her computer.

"Yeah, uh … I'm in room number 361. I've been staying here a couple days but I really need to stay one more," said Canada, trying to speak up. "My boss called and said I must do this very important report for him on the importance of … um, are you listening?"

Click click click.

"Uh, well, anyway … just wanted to let you know—"

"YOU LIAR!"

The door burst open, and Canada startled at the same time the clerk looked immediately up. Which Canada thought was rude, because she didn't look up for him.

America and England stormed through the hotel lobby. Canada thought he was being loud before their entrance, but he was very wrong. He was nothing but a whisper compared to these two.

"I'm not stupid, ya know!" said America to England as they walked through the lobby. "Why is your Internet browser history always completely clear, hmm? !"

"Don't go looking through my history!" England angrily shouted back.

"There's no other reason," continued America loudly. "You've obviously been watching a ton of porn and then deleting your history!"

"Wha …!" sputtered England. "How dare you snoop like that in the first place!"

Canada glanced nervously to the clerk. But she ignored him. She was too distracted by the two new very loud hotel guests.

"Come on …" said America. "I know you watch porn. Don't even deny it, dude."

England looked nervously over to the front desk. It just occurred to him how loudly they were speaking. He whispered harshly to America, "Shut up in front of the hotel clerk."

And Canada wondered why England didn't care if he heard …

"And it's not like you've never watch a porno either," whispered England.

"Oh, I didn't say I didn't." America wasn't lowering his voice. "But I don't delete my history. Check it if you want to, dude. I mean, you'll mostly find funny cat videos on youtube, but there's a little porn in there if you look hard enough."

"If you watch it too then why are you giving me a hard time? !"

"Because I only watch a bit, and it's the normal stuff." America pushed right past Canada at the desk. He nearly shoved him out of the way, almost as if he didn't even see him. Canada opened his mouth to protest, but America was still talking, "And I'm sure you watch a crap ton. Of the kinky stuff." America snickered. "… the weird stuff."

"Stop accusing me! What I watch is none of your busin — oh." England remembered where they were again. Now he too was right in front of the clerk, and she was staring back at him with the weirdest look. "Uh, pardon me, miss."

"HAHA!" America leaned against the desk. "Hey, 'sup?" he asked the clerk. "We'd like a room for the night, por favor."

"They don't speak Spanish here," said England.

"I didn't ask you, England."

"You two?" asked Canada. "In the same room?"

But no one even looked in his direction.

"You gentlemen are lucky," said the clerk as she checked them in. "This is the last vacant room we have."

"Score!" said America.

Canada slowly back away. He didn't know what was going on, and he didn't want to find out.

X

Canada sat on the hotel room bed with his laptop in his lap. He was certain the clerk had heard him about wanting to extend his stay. After all, he'd been so loud! Well, loud for him. There was no way she didn't hear … she had to … he'd raised his voice … thought Canada.

Canada glanced to the clock. 8:46 PM. He looked back to the open Word document on his laptop. He was supposed to write a very important report for his boss. It was due tomorrow and he had nothing finished except the title, at the top in bold, 'Why Beavers Are So Important.'

Canada sighed. "Oh, this shouldn't be that hard. I love beavers!"

But he was tired and homesick and just didn't feel like doing much of anything besides sleeping.

He rubbed his head. "Come on, concentrate …" he told himself.

Suddenly he heard a noise. He looked up to see the hotel door handle moving by itself. Seconds later, France had let himself in and was lugging his suitcase into the room.

"Oh, it feels so good to be out of zat nasty peasant air – SACRE BLEU!" exclaimed France. He froze, dropping his luggage, when he spied Canada sitting on the bed. "Zere is someone already in zis room!"

Canada just stared back, wide eyed. He couldn't believe it. Someone actually noticed him!

"Ohhh , wait …" France smirked. "Was zis a surprise for me? HONHONHON … I wonder who did me the honor of sending me a le prostitute."

"Prostitute? !"

"Oui~ … I shall have to send zem a thank you card."

"France, it's me! Canada!"

France squinted his eyes. Canada didn't have many lights on in the room. France switched on a lamp, and smiled. "Ah, so it is you."

"Yeah! Phew, that was embarrass—"

"Offer still stands, however."

"Eh? Wha …." Canada shook himself. "How did you even get in my room to begin with?"

"Your room? It is my room. I just checked into it. See?" France held up a card key.

Indeed, it did say room number 361.

"Oh, no," said Canada. "I guess the clerk didn't hear me, after all …"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I was supposed to check out today but my boss needed me to stay so I could finish an important report for him. But when I went to ask for another night …"

"Yes?" France continued bringing his luggage in for some reason.

"… I guess I wasn't loud enough."

"So zey assumed ze room was vacant it and let me have it," finished France. "So it is just a misunderstanding, no?"

"Right!" said Canada nervously. "So if you just go ask for them to switch you to another room …"

France tossed his suitcase on the bed, startling Canada. "Ah, but zis is ze last one in ze entire hotel! They are completely booked."

Canada watched France unzip the suitcase. "Oh, they are? Well … umm … maybe you can find another hotel somewhere—"

"SACRE BLEU!" exclaimed France. "You're not seriously asking me to leave, are you? !"

"Uh … well … it is my room, after all-"

"Do you realize how late it is? !" France put the back of his hand on his forehead dramatically. "Oh, to think of wondering zese cold, desolate streets in a desperate search of another place to stay!"

"Uh …"

"Cast out into the darkness like a filthy dog!" he continued to sob. "You can't seriously throw me out like zat, can you? To roam ze streets, possibly not even find a place, and have to sleep in a back alley way like a common le crackwhore!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Canada put his hands up defensively. "I never said I wanted all that to happen!"

France immediately snapped out of it and resumed unpacking. "Ah, very well zen. Thank you for letting me stay with you," he said, throwing some clothes in a dresser.

"Wait! I didn't mean …" But it was too late, and Canada knew it. He sighed. "Fine. I suppose you can stay. I just ask that you please be quiet, since like I said, I have work to do."

"But of course, but of course!" France gave him a silly wave. "I planned to have a quiet night anyway. Just read myself a nice book until completion, then sleep."

"Oh." Canada glanced to the bed. The one bed. Well, it was big. Canada figured he'd be okay if he just stayed as far to his side as possible. "All right then. I guess this could work …"

France hung up his jacket in the closet. Turned away from him, Canada couldn't see France's devious smirk. "Of course it will~ …"

X

The hour was getting late. 10:07. Okay, not that late. But late for Canada, who usually went to bed early. And he still was on the first page of his very important report.

He sat on one side of the bed. Way too far off to one side, awkwardly. He was trying to be as far from France as possible. France was on the other side, relaxing on his back, one arm behind his head as he held his book with the other.

Canada had glanced over to him, wishing so badly France would just go to sleep already. His presence was a little unnerving and very distracting to him and his oh so important report. He just couldn't write it. He'd write a little, decide it sounded stupid, and then rapidly click the backspace button. This went on and on, and time went by, yet he had nothing to show for it.

Every time France licked his fingers and turned another page in his book, Canada felt a little more uneasy. Partly because he was making so much progress reading, going through so many pages while Canada was still writing page one of his report. But mostly because he thought the way France was licking his fingers dragged on just a little too long, was a little more wet, and a little more seductive than it needed to be just to turn a page.

Canada sighed at the nearly white screen. His eyes darted back to France out of curiosity. Then he noticed it. France was casually reclining next to him with a very obvious – and very large —erection.

"Umm!" Canada blurted out without thinking.

France glanced up from his book. "Hmm? Something wrong?"

"Y-you … uh … y-you're …" stammered Canada. "Uh …" He couldn't get it out. Instead he pointed to the bulge in France's pants.

"Oh, zat?" France waved him off again. "Zat's what happens when you read erotica."

Canada looked away, blushing. "Oh … um … I didn't –"

"Well, zat's what happens when you read good erotica," France corrected. "And zis one is especially exquisite. But ze bulge in my pants is plenty of evidence of zat, no? HONHONHON."

Canada covered his face with his hand, concealing how red it'd become. "O … kaaaay then …"

"What's wrong?"

Canada peeked nervously through his fingers. "It's just that … you promised you'd let this be a quiet night so that I could get my work done. And you lay beside me with … well … you know …"

"And ze problem is …?"

"How can I possibly concentrate? ! You're making things very awkward!"

"Heh …" France looked back down to his book. "I informed you of my intentions already and you were fine with them. I told you I'd read until completion and then sleep."

"Yeah but you didn't …!" Canada trailed off as he realized what France meant. " … wait. When you say, 'completion' … you're not talking about completing the book, are you?"

"HONHONHON," cackled France.

Canada face-palmed. "Oh, God."

"Whaaaat?" asked France defensively. "I'm a quiet le masturbator! Once I can't stand it anymore I shall excuse myself to the restroom and take care of this pressing matter. The one pressing against my zipper, HONHONHON."

"D-don't bother!" Canada quickly threw aside his laptop and hopped off the bed. "I'll give you plenty of alone time! Because I'm gonna take a shower." Then he muttered quietly, "… a long, cold shower."

"Oh, don't be so embarrassed, you silly little croissant!" France pointed to Canada's laptop. "I knew zis whole time you've been writing about your love for beavers. One lecher to another, hmm?"

"Wha …" Canada's eyes widened. "No! Not that kind of beaver!"

France winked at him. "Suuuuure~"

"No, I'm serious! I actually am writing about how much I love beavers! The real ones! The furry ones!"

France threw his arms up, smirking. "Furry, shaved, we all have our preferences. Who am I to judge?"

"GAHHH – That's not what I meant! I meant the actual animal!"

"Heh heh. Enjoy your shower, Canada."

Canada grabbed his pajamas and slinked away to the bathroom. "Oh … God …"

X

After a long, cold shower, Canada cautiously cracked the bathroom door. He was in his pajamas — a plain nightshirt with moose-print flannel pants. He peered through the crack to see what France was up to. He didn't want to deal with the embarrassment of walking in on France doing … something …

But to Canada's surprise, he spied France on the bed without his hand in his pants. Though he had changed his clothes. Now he was just in a hotel bathrobe, with the front open, showing off his hairy chest.

Canada could hear the murmur of voices from the television, and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness," he whispered to himself. "He's just watching TV."

Canada exited the bathroom and headed for the bed. His plan was to keep quiet, get under the covers, balance himself near the edge of the bed he possibly could without falling off, and go to sleep. But as he was climbing into the bed, France asked him something that completely derailed his train of thought.

"So what kind of le pornography do you like?"

Canada plopped onto the bed, in shock. The red flush that had disappeared during his shower immediately returned to his face. "Uhhh …"

"Me, I prefer it to be tasteful," said France, flipping through the channels. "Classy. Though I admit, I am not above ze other stuff if ze mood strikes ze right way. You know what I mean, no?"

Canada pulled the covers over himself. "NO."

"I like erotic fiction, but you have already learned zat, HONHONHON." France was going to a menu on the television screen. "But I very much like erotic films as well. What would you like to watch?"

Canada looked to the screen. He saw that France was going to the hotel's adult entertainment section. "I … uh … don't really feel comfortable-"

"Come now," interrupted France. "You must have a favorite. I'm not too picky so I'll leave it to you. Which type would you like me to select?"

"P-please! I'd just like to sleep!"

"Oh, look at zis." France grinned deviously. "Zis hotel allows thirty second samples of any le pornographic title. Zat way we know exactly what we are getting before we have to pay. Zat's just quality customer service, no?"

"C-customer service …?" Canada couldn't believe France was referring to free porn samples as customer service.

"Oui~ Let's go through and test a few out, shall we? See what we like."

"H-how aboot we just go to sleep, eh?"

France clicked a button on the remote. "Oops, sorry~" he said, though he definitely didn't sound sorry. "My finger must have accidentally hit 'select'! How clumsy of me … HONHONHON."

The preview started, and Canada couldn't help but look. He didn't want to, but he was drawn in by a morbid curiosity and couldn't look away.

On the screen was a very busty blonde woman. Very busty. She was practically popping out of her tiny half-shirt.

"Ah, zose le breasts are clearly fake," said France with a chuckle. "Was is ze obsession with big, plastic le breasts in American pornos anyway?"

Canada didn't know, and he damn sure wasn't going to ask his brother to find out.

"Moi? I prefer them au natural," said France. "How about you, Canada?" Canada didn't answer. "Oh, why am I even asking? Of course you like them natural. You already told me you like your beaver furry."

"I meant real beavers!" Canada said frantically. "Like the ones that swim in rivers and chomp down trees and dam up water!"

"Enough of your dam water story! Let's continue watching ze clip, shall we?"

Canada looked back to the TV. A pizza man had rung the well-endowed woman's doorbell, but apparently she had no money for the pizza. And was offering to pay with something else …

"Why would she order a pizza if she doesn't have any money?" asked Canada.

"Shhh," hushed France. "It is porn – zere doesn't need to be an explanation."

The free clip cut to another part of film. It was a very abrupt jump: now the delivery man was on top of the woman, power thrusting in and out of her, making her breasts bounce up and down.

"OH YESSSSS! RIGHT THERE! OH YEAH! GIVE IT TO ME, BABY!" screamed the woman with much enthusiasm.

"OH YEAH, YOU LIKE THAT, DON'T YOU?" the man replied.

"OHHHHH GOD YES! HARDER! YEAH! GIMME MORE OF YOUR BIG THICK COCK!"

"GOD YEAH, YOUR PUSSY IS SO TIGHT, FUCK YEAH."

"GAHHH!" Canada pulled the covers over his head.

"Hmmm." France was studying the television very closely. "Zat tan is fake too. You can tell. She looks so … orange."

"That's what you noticed? !"

"Zat and I have been with zat woman myself before." France nonchalantly rubbed his chin. "Yes, I do believe it was after one of America's parties. I brought her home. Nice woman — a bit loud, but nice enough."

Canada popped out from under the covers. "You're serious? You had, uh … relations … with that woman?"

"Oui~ I had a lovely time. I remember telling America about it later and he was so angry with me!" France chuckled to himself. "He hates it when I bang his women. HONHONHON."

"I … can't … believe it …" Actually, Canada definitely could, but he was trying to be polite like a good Canadian.

Suddenly, the thirty seconds was up, and the clip ended.

"Let's see what else is in here …" France was very excited. "Oh, my. Look at zis. Some le German porn. Now zat is kinky."

"Oh God …" Canada looked sickened. "This doesn't involve dogs, does it?"

"I don't know. Let's see, shall we?"

"… eh?"

France selected the German porn.

On the screen was a woman dressed in very tight black leather. She stood in tall stiletto shoes and held a long whip in a gloved hand. She loomed over a man wearing nothing but a mask that covered everything but his mouth. He was bound by ropes to some sort of contraption, like a table. He mumbled something desperate but Canada couldn't understand it.

The woman folded the whip in half and cracked it loudly. Then she started yelling — no, shrieking — in German. Loud, shrill, barking words.

"I … I think I'm actually glad I don't know how to speak German …" said Canada nervously.

"I know a bit," said France. "I'm a little rusty, but it's something like 'YOU FILTHY MANWHORE, YOU INSOLENT LITTLE BUG, I WILL CRUSH YOUR PENIS WITH MY HEEL AND —"

"OH GOD!" interrupted Canada. "I said I'm glad I didn't know!"

Suddenly, the woman cracked the whip over the man's back.

CRACK!

More shrill shouting in German.

Then the woman started mercilessly whipping the man, striking him over and over on his back and ass. Long, red stripes appeared where she hit, the beginnings of welts.

"Mmm! Mmm!" whimpered the man, who suddenly had a ball gag in his mouth.

Canada was in shock. "Wow … people actually get off on this? There sure are some freaks out there …"

France peered closely to the screen. "I know zat woman too."

"EH? !"

"Yes, yes, I remember now! I found her one evening while staying in Germany for a Eurozone meeting."

Canada just gaped in awe.

"She showed no mercy!" said France. "She tied me up and beat me with zis riding crop. Normally zat's not really my thing, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it!"

"…."

"You have to take a little pain with your pleasure every now and again, no? Ze two are a delightfully thrilling mix."

"I'll, uh … take your word for it."

"My ass had welts for days! HONHONHON."

Then the clip ended.

"What else is in here …" France clicked around. "Mostly vanilla American stuff, PEH! Hard to watch zat after ze German fare. It makes it look so boring, no?"

"Uh …"

"Ah, here we are!" France selected something new. "Zis will definitely not be boring!"

"Oh, no ..."

"It is pornography from Japan."

"OH NO …"

On the screen was a tiny, possibly underage Japanese cartoon schoolgirl in a sailor outfit. Yes, cartoon.

Canada thought it was odd, but at least there was no way France had had sex with that one.

Suddenly a giant, strange plant appeared. A plant with long tentacle-like branches with endings that looked like penises. Even Canada immediately knew where this was going!

Canada face-palmed. "Oh, Jesus mapley Christ …"

"Zis shall be interesting," said France.

The plant's tentacles suddenly grabbed the girl. They surrounded her, creeping into her clothes and pulling her legs apart. They ripped off her clothes and slithered along bare skin.

France did a little wave with his hand. "Oh, ze things you come up with, Japan!"

The tentacles wormed their way into the girl's various orifices. One forced her mouth open, nearly making her gag. Another snaked into her entrance, and then another entered her from behind. The girl whimpered and cried, tears streaming down her face ever since the first appearance of the plant monster.

France stared at the screen intently. "You know …"

Canada didn't want to know … "… eh?"

"I had sex with a plant once."

Yep. He definitely didn't want to know.

"Strange things happen when you have a little too much wine, HONHONHON."

Canada looked very pale. In fact, he felt nauseous. "I … think I'm gonna lay and down go to sleep now."

"Now? But zere are so many more free porn samples on here! SO MUCH MORE!"

"Ugh … no thanks. I'm think I'm gonna be sick if I keep watching them."

France suddenly looked concerned. "What's wrong, mon baguette?"

"It's just … I don't know. I just need to sleep."

France suddenly cut the television off. "I didn't mean to upset you, you know."

"It's okay …"

"But it disturbs me how bothered this all has made you." It was strange. France looked genuinely concerned. "I remember when you were younger how interested in sex you were. I can't help but wonder why the change."

"EH? !" Canada tensed. "D-don't say it like that! I wasn't interested, j-just curious!"

"Did something happen?"

"No!"

"Nothing?"

"No, I promise!" Canada looked away nervously. "Nothing at all has happened since then …"

France cocked an eyebrow. He wondered if that was what was causing the issue …

X

When France said Canada was interested in sex, he was referring to a very specific incident that occurred many years ago. Canada was young — still before puberty. Still in primary school and oblivious to the perversions of adults.

It all began one day when young little Canada went to visit America. America was very excited because he supposedly had learned about this magical thing called sex.

"Yeah, you how some of the boys in the older grades talk about it sometimes?" America asked Canada, grinning. "Well, I finally found out what it was."

Little Canada had heard older kids talking about the word too, though he didn't understand what it meant. "What is it?" he asked as he petted a beaver.

"It's this weird condition where you lose your pants."

Canada made a face. "I don't think that's right."

"Yeah huh! That's what it is!"

"How do you know?"

"Well, I walked in on the Netherlands the other day —"

Canada hugged the beaver for comfort. "Big scary Mr. Netherlands? !"

"Yep! These kids were saying they were having sex in this room and I said OH YEAH? Well, I'm gonna see for myself!"

Canada took a step back. "Tell me you didn't!"

"I did! I walked right on in and he was like SCRAM KID, but I said NOPE. I asked what was going on and he said he and this other person … I dunno who it was but it's not important … anyway he said he just lost his pants! They both did."

"Um … I think he lied to you, America."

"Nuh uh! Why would he do that? I even asked him, I said 'So that's what sex is! When you lose your pants!' and he said 'Yeah sure kid, now beat it and let me finish.' So you KNOW it's true!"

Canada gave the beaver a look. A look like 'can you believe this guy …?' He has an unspoken bond with beavers. Even American ones.

"I'm very happy about it," America said smugly. "Because everyone talks about sex like it's a super great thing. And last night I couldn't find my pants after England made me take a bath. So I had sex last night! With England, I guess."

"You did NOT."

"Yeah huh! You're just jealous because you always know where your pants are." America made an L with his fingers and held it over his forehead. "LOSER!"

Little Canada did not like being called a loser by little America. Especially not in front of a beaver. So he decided to venture off and find out the truth for himself. The truth about this elusive 'sex' business.

He wandered around America's country for a while. This was during a time when many countries were fighting over control over America, so there were plenty to run into.

The first he came across were Sweden and Finland.

"Hello!" he said brightly to them.

The pair was outside, hanging laundry on a clothesline.

"Oh, look, a cute little kid!" said Finland. "Isn't he adorable, Sweden?"

Sweden clipped a pair of bloomers to the line. "Mm."

"I have an important question to ask!" said little Canada.

"Well, sure!" replied Finland. "Ask away, little guy!"

"Okay!" said Canada happily. "What is sex?"

Finland's jaw dropped. When he somewhat gained composure, he asked, "W-w-what do you want to know that for? !"

Canada shrugged. "Just curious."

"Ah … well …" Finland was suddenly sweating. "I-it's difficult to explain …"

Canada looked up hopefully. Those big, innocent eyes were hard to look into while thinking of such perverted things …

"Well, y-you see, little boy …" started Finland. "When two people love each other very much … they, uh … well, there's this special hug. No, wait — not a 'hug' per se … it's more like … umm …" He looked over to Sweden. "Help me out here, Sweden …" he whispered.

"Hmm," said Sweden. "It's wh'n s'me'ne st'cks th'r p'nis into s'me'ne else."

"WHAT DON'T TELL HIM THAT!" exclaimed Finland.

"Wait, what?" asked Canada.

"IT'S NOT THAT!"

"No, I mean … I didn't understand what he said …"

"Oh, thank God." Finland sighed, relieved. "Look … let's just say it's like a special … uh … dance? Yeah, dance! A special dance between two people, and you will understand the rest when you're older."

"A dance?" Canada glanced away. "I don't feel like you're telling me the truth …"

"I did," said Sweden, hanging up some underwear.

Canada wanted to yell at them for lying, but he was a polite little Canadian, so he just bid them farewell and continued on to find someone else.

And he did.

The next person he came across was England. Who immediately started fawning all over him.

"Oh, my!" said England, a little too happy. "Look how big you're getting! But still so cute!"

"Uh … right …" Canada gently pushed away England's hand, which was rustling his hair. "I need to ask you something, please."

"Oh, of course!" replied England. "You can ask me anything, America!"

Canada cringed. Of course. Why didn't he see that coming … "Well, I'm actually Canada. And also, what is sex?"

England's eyebrows raised so high they nearly sprung off his head. And that's a lot of eyebrow. It took a minute for both of those realizations to sink in, then he finally replied, "Uh-uh, well, Amer- Canada, I had a feeling this day would come."

Canada smiled up innocently at him. It just made England even more nervous. How could he tell the truth to that innocent little face?

"You see … it all starts with a bird and a bee. And they — no wait, that's not right. No, there is a stork. Yes, a stork. He brings the baby, you see. He works for God and the angels make the babies up in heaven, and then the birds and the bees — because they can fly, they fly all the way up to heaven —th-they get the baby and bring it to … oh, pardon me. I meant to say the stork, not the birds and bees. Well, come to think of it, a stork is a bird …"

"Uhhh …" Canada was lost. "I didn't ask about babies. Are babies and sex connected?"

"Oops." England glanced around nervously. "I've said too much."

"Please tell me, England," little Canada begged.

"No, no." England turned Canada around and started pushing him away. "Now you run along, all right? You needn't know about this. Just don't let anyone touch your special area and that's all you need to know."

"My … special area?"

"Yes. If someone does, say 'stranger danger!' and hopefully someone will be around to help you."

"… hopefully?"

"Go on now." England gave him another push. "Run along and play like a good little boy."

Canada didn't have much of a choice, what with England shoving him away like that. But he knew England was lying to him too, so he kept venturing to find someone who would tell him the truth.

He came across a few others, but none of them would tell him what sex was.

"Es muy bueno!" was Spain's reply. But Canada didn't speak Spanish, so that was no bueno to him.

"IT'S AWESOME!" was all that Prussia told him. But that wasn't a very thorough answer.

Little Canada even ran into the Netherlands, the country that started this discussion. But when Canada asked him, the Netherlands just said, "Scram kid, you're harshing my buzz." Whatever that meant …

Canada was about to give up. He was going to go home and find a moose to confide his distraught feelings in, when suddenly he ran into France.

France was busy trying on fancy hats. It was a very important thing to do back in those days. "Oh, Canada!" he exclaimed when he saw him. "Don't you think zis one looks absolutely magnifique on me?"

Canada squinted his eyes. "It looks kinda like a girl's hat."

"Yes, it looks absolutely fabulous on me!" said fabulous France.

"Do you have any men's hats and also what is sex?"

"Zis is a men's hat!" France did a double-take. "Wait, what was zat? !"

"Sex." Canada smiled brightly. "What is it?"

France gaped for a moment. Then he thought hard, stroking his tiny beard. "I wonder if you are too young to hear this … zough it is only a natural thing. A beautiful, natural thing. Plus you have probably seen moose going at it from time to time."

"The moose do it too?" Canada squirmed excitedly. "Oh, now I definitely have to know! I love moose!"

"Heh, I know you do," said France. He sat down and encouraged Canada to sit beside him by patting the empty seat next to him. Canada happily jumped up and sat. "Very well zen, I shall tell you."

"Oh boy!"

"Sex, little Canada," France began. "Is when a man and a woman … hmm." France paused. "No, no, zat is not always true. Forget zat, as it can most certainly be between two men and two womens. So let me start over, sex is when two people –" France stopped again. "Oh, no wait. It doesn't have to be two. It can three, four, mon dieu, a whole orgy of people! So let me start over once more. Ahem! Sex is when an unspecified number of people – actually, I suppose zey don't necessarily have to be people either …"

"I'm so confused," said little Canada.

"You know what? Zis would be much easier to explain with a visual aid. Pardon me." France left the room and quickly returned with a piece of paper and something else in his hand. "I shall draw it and zen you shall understand!"

"Huzzah!" said happy little Canada. "I like pictures!"

France was a very skilled artist. He has the Louvre in his country, after all (even if most of the artwork there is not his own.) When he finally finished his masterpiece, he held it up for Canada to see: a graphic depiction of group sex, showing all forms including both between men, women, and all combinations of those, in all sorts of sexual positions and techniques (some of which weren't even invented yet at the time, but France is revolutionary), filling up the entire large page.

"Wow." Canada's eyes were nearly bulging off his head. "That's a lot of naked people, eh?"

"Let me explain what each of zem is doing," France said proudly. He pointed to the first one, explaining in graphic detail the sex act it was depicting, then moved onto the rest one by one until he was finished.

By the end, Canada was shaking. "Th-that's a little more complicated than just losing your pants …"

"Indeed." France rolled up the paper. "Here. You can keep this."

Canada took the paper from France. "I can?"

"Oui~ and if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask! Big Brother will not lie to you."

"Um, th-thanks …"

And with that, France made his flamboyant, dramatic exit. Striking with a fancy pose in his new fancy hat, he was off, waving little Canada goodbye.

X

France worried how uncomfortable Canada looked on the hotel bed beside him. It didn't seem right to him that he was so nervous about anything sexual.

"What happened to your curiosity?" asked France, leaning over Canada, who was lying facing the wall. "After I explained sex to you with my magnifique artwork, you used to write or call me up and ask me questions. Remember? Just random things you wondered about and had no one else to ask. Like 'where is ze le clitoris?' and 'is it normal if I curve ever so slightly to ze right?' and 'does Coke actually work as a spermicide?'"

Canada immediately sat up. "That last one was America's!" he exclaimed defensively. "I swear! He was too embarrassed to ask anyone and made me do it!"

"Heh heh," chuckled France. "Knowing America, I actually believe you."

"Good, I wouldn't want you to get the wrong—"

"Zat is why you are so shy about zese things, no?" France smirked. "You said nothing happened to you to make you zat way. Well, zat is ze problem, is it not?"

"I don't understand …"

France was still smirking. "You've never had sex before, have you, Canada?"

Canada blushed deeply. "EH? !"

France did his flamboyant hand wave. "Please! Don't play stupid with moi. You live in a vast frozen wasteland, isolated from almost every country, and ze rest of ze world doesn't even notice you."

"Th-that's not very nice!"

"Well, am I wrong?" France looked him in the eye. "Have you ever had le sex?"

Canada wanted to lie. But that's not what good, polite Canadians do. That and he wasn't very good at lying. He looked away sheepishly and mumbled, "… no."

"HONHONHON!" cackled France. "I knew it! Big Brother has a sixth sense for virgins. It's a gift, no?"

Canada rolled back over. "Yeah, whatever. I don't really wanna talk about this."

"Come now." France leaned over him again. "It's not too late, you know. My offer of teaching has never been withdrawn."

Canada had shut his eyes but they immediately sprang back open. "… um … a-are you asking to have sex with me?"

"Oh, non!" France waved him off. "Of course not! I am asking you to ask me. You are ze one with ze questions, after all!"

Canada's face was flushed red. "None of them were to have sex with you!"

"Surely you must have more questions. Even asking me some decade after decade, a virgin will always have some curiosity, no?"

Canada sighed. "I came to you because you were the only one would tell me the truth."

"Oh, reeeeally?"

"Yeah. Everyone else just lied to me."

"How could someone lie to your innocent little face!" France was leaning himself over Canada even closer. "I will always tell you ze truth, Canada. And ze truth is zat you need to get le laid."

Canada jerked, tensing up. But he didn't move, because France was so close to him now that if he sat up he would touch France. "You know, that's a little more than I planned to do this evening!" he blurted out nervously. "I just wanted to write my report! Though I didn't even finish …"

France backed off. "Fine, fine. We don't have to go very far. I could just show you a little and zen we could stop."

Canada glanced back. "A little what?"

"We could start with something simple." France shrugged. "A little French kissing, perhaps? HONHONHON."

"… do you really have to cackle like that so much? It makes me feel like you're taking advantage of me."

"BUT OF COURSE! I am French. Zat is how we laugh. HONHONHON!"

Canada sat up. "Well … I suppose there's nothing wrong with a little kissing …"

"French kissing," France corrected. "HONHONHON."

"Would you please stop doing — mmmph!"

France cut Canada off with his mouth. He pressed his lips against Canada's, turning his protest into a muffled whimper. It trailed off into silence as France didn't pull away. He parted Canada's lips with his tongue. He slid himself inside, noticing Canada was trembling, but continued slithering around in his mouth anyway. His tongue slid along, running along Canada's own tongue, feeling it twitch nervously against his.

France pulled back momentarily. "You've never done this before either, have you?"

Canada glanced away nervously. "Not like that …"

France chuckled before taking Canada's lips again. He picked up where he left off, licking inside Canada's mouth, feeling the nervous twitchy movements Canada involuntarily made.

Canada's face felt like it was burning. He was blushing furiously from embarrassment. But not just because France had his tongue in his mouth. No, there was something else involuntarily happening to Canada. He tried to be nonchalant as he moved his hand, pulling the covers over his lap to block France from seeing.

It was a nice try, but France noticed. He broke the kiss again and looked down. "Oh? What's zis?"

"N-nothing!" Canada lied. Oh, he was such a bad liar.

"Let me see." France pulled harder on the blanket than Canada, exposing Canada's lap. There France saw a growing bulge in Canada's moose pants. "HONHONHON."

Canada immediately pulled the covers back over himself. "D-don't look at it! I couldn't help it!"

"Mon dieu!" said France with a chuckle. "Please, do calm yourself. It's fine. A perfectly natural response to ze perfectly magnificent and sensual tantalization of your mouth."

"Oh, maple. Please don't say it like that—"

"Funny how you virgins get hard so easily." He sighed dreamily. "Like if ze wind blows …"

"Wha …! Was that fast? !" Canada had nothing to compare it to. How was he to know?

"It's quite all right. It is to be expected when you are so sexually starved."

Canada never thought about it like that. And doing so only made him twitch against the fabric of his pants. As they were talking, Canada's erection didn't go away, it only became harder.

"Zough I do find it odd …" began France. "… how you became aroused so easily now, yet you had no reaction to that delightful le pornography we sampled earlier."

Canada barely processed the question. The erection pressing into his pajamas pants demanded most of his attention. It felt cramped, stifled, and way too stuffed as Canada refused to take it out.

"Yeah … about that …" Canada didn't finish. Another twitch of his cock shut him up.

"I have a feeling why." France stroked his tiny beard. "Perhaps it was because zey were so short. Or perhaps it was because zey were a little strange. But could it be because zey featured womens? Canada … do you prefer le hockey stick over le beaver, as zey in your country?"

"WHAT? We do NOT say like it that!" exclaimed Canada. "Please, please do not say it like that."

"Well, answer ze question!"

"I don't know!" He sounded quite defensive. "If I've never had either, how am I supposed to know? !"

There was a glint in France's eyes when Canada said that. A devious, French glint. "Is zat riiiiiiight ... you know, of all zose questions you asked me about sex, you never once asked me any specifically about ze man on man variety. Why is zat?"

Why, oh why, did Canada's cock throb when France asked that question? That's what Canada desperately wanted to know. He tried not to let his face give away how hard a time (pun intended) he was having controlling his erection, but his poker face needed a little work.

"It's not too late," said France. "Ask away."

Canada knew he shouldn't. But he rationalized with himself. There was nothing wrong with just asking, right? Everybody gets curious about things. As long as it was just talking, it was okay … right?

"T-tell me about it," said Canada, trying not to let his voice sound strained.

"Well, zat was technically a demand, not a question, but I shall oblige anyway."

"Oops …" muttered Canada.

"Between two men …" began France. "Well, it is not all too different than between a man and a womens. Obviously it is a different hole, which does change things a little bit."

Canada squirmed under the covers. His cock felt like it was suffocating. Listening to France talk, it literally throbbed. "G-go on …"

"For a man, zere is a place inside of him, zat if you touch it … you can make him hard instantly." France's eyes lit up with that word. "In fact, for some, if you hit it just right, you can make zem involuntarily cum instantly too. It is truly an amazing thing."

Canada swallowed hard, trying to control his breathing. "Really …"

"Oui! Many an embarrassed man has discovered this upon getting a prostate exam!" France chuckled. "Heh heh, it is so amusing to think of zose poor heterosexuals walking out of zeir doctor's offices questioning their sexuality after accidentally and involuntarily getting hard as a rock during a routine checkup!"

Canada wiggled where he sat. He tried to find a position that wasn't so chafing on the stifled bulge in his pants, but nothing seemed to bring comfort. "That's … uh … interesting."

"Now let me ask you something … and please be honest, as I know how much you've appreciated my being honest with you …"

Canada froze. "… what?"

France leaned close. "Have you ever tried it?" When he saw the confusion on Canada's flushed face, he clarified, "Have you ever fingered yourself?"

Canada gasped, and hoped that France would assume it was just because his question was so personal, and not because of the pulsing wave of another twitch that jolted between his legs when he heard it. "… no …"

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not!" Canada said, flustered. "It's the truth! I've thought about it, but never actually went through with it."

"Hmm." France studied Canada's face, and decided he was telling the truth. "Well, zen. Would you like for me to teach you?"

It was with that question that Canada felt it. Something wet. A tiny trickle of precum seeping out at the tip, smearing against the fabric of his pants.

It was his desperate cock that made him finally answer, "… I guess I've always been curious to try it."

France grinned. "Zat a yes?"

Canada knew what was coming but still replied, "Yes."

"HONHONHON."

Yep, Canada knew that cackle was coming.

France was off the bed and digging through his suitcase. Canada looked at him curiously until France triumphantly said, "AH!" and held up a tiny bottle. "I always have a bottle of lubricant on hand. Or on le cock. Or in le ass. Wherever it is needed, HONHONHON."

"You're so punny." Canada rolled his eyes but it's hard to look nonchalant blushing like that.

"Take off zose silly pants! You have a lesson to learn."

Canada pushed the covers off his lap. France's eyes lit up when he saw how Canada's erection had only gotten bigger. He couldn't believe Canada had restrained himself, as he could tell how cramped and painful it looked to be confined and squashed in those pajama pants.

"Zat looks quite uncomfortable." France's eyes couldn't look away. He stared, grinning widely, at Canada's crotch. "Better hurry and take those off."

"I am …" Canada was looking away, as this was very awkward for him. "… and yeah, it definitely wasn't very comfortable."

"My! You should have said so sooner!"

Canada closed his eyes as his fingers hooked around the elastic waistband of his pants. He kept them closed as he rolled the pants down, shifted his bottom to allow them to slide off, and tugged them down to his legs. He huffed a pant of relief as his neglected cock flopped out of its confines. It felt so good to free it, exposed to the air, finally not suffocating against the stifling fabric anymore.

France was back on the bed. He tugged Canada's pants the rest of the way down off his legs and tossed them on the back of a nearby chair.

France's eyes eagerly flicked up and down Canada's exposed body. He excitedly drank the sight in: how Canada was so aroused, how furiously he blushed, how hard he was, how there was already a trickle of precum impatiently collecting on the tip of his length …

There was no better time to say HONHONHON.

And so he did.

"HONHONHON," said France.

France sat on his knees between Canada's legs, who was now on his back. Canada rested his head on one of the pillows as France popped the bottle open.

"Now zis may feel strange." France poured the bottle into his cupped hand. "But it's your first time doing something like zis, so do keep an open mind."

Canada let out a long, strained breath as he tried to relax himself against the pillow. "Okay."

Once he had a good amount of lube on his hand, France closed the bottle and set it on the nightstand. He rubbed his fingers against the substance in his palm, coating them and making them slick. More precum trickled down Canada's length as he watched France work his fingers.

"Le eager?" asked France, flashing a grin.

Canada squirmed nervously. "J-just curious."

"You're a terrible liar."

France pushed Canada's legs even farther apart. He scooted himself closer, settling in between them. With his dry hand, he rubbed the inside of Canada's thigh. His hand moved slowly, softly, massaging the skin and trying to soothe away how tense it felt.

"You're going to have to relax for zis to feel good."

France continued to caress the inside of the leg, gradually working its way higher. France listened to the way Canada tried to control his labored breathing — tried to conceal the excited little gasps he was eliciting out of him. France watched as he rubbed, he watched the way Canada's cock twitched, its subtle movements, the higher France's hand went.

France brushed one slick finger against Canada's entrance. Canada immediately tensed, clenching up.

"I said relax."

Canada took a deep breath. Then slowly exhaled.

France circled the hole with his finger. It twitched against him. France kept circling with his finger, gradually applying more pressure until it slipped in.

Canada took another breath, but this one was quick and involuntary.

"You're not relaxing!"

"I'm trying!"

"Just try not to think about it hurting."

Canada swallowed. He wasn't even thinking about that, but now the thought was in his head.

France slid the finger until his knuckles pressed into Canada.

"It's all ze way in," said France. "HONHONHON."

Canada wanted to face-palm, but he was quite distracted. He'd never felt something like this. His muscles weren't used to a foreign intrusion and clenched around France's finger tightly. Canada panted, trying to calm himself.

"Strange as it sounds," began France. "It actually helps to push against me."

Canada thought that sounded odd, but it was uncomfortably tight, so he decided to try it. After all, this was France. He seemed to know a lot about this kind of stuff.

Canada pushed against France, and the uncomfortable tightness lessened. He breathed easier as he felt France pull back his finger, stop right before sliding out, then push back into him.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not really," panted Canada.

Upon hearing this, France started a rhythm. "Let's find zat spot inside you, shall we?" he said, still rubbing Canada's thigh with his other hand. "Ze one zat will drive you crazy."

Canada wondered if he was one of those people for whom it only took one strike to cum instantly. Thinking about it, fantasizing about it, he thrust his hips down on France's finger without even realizing what he was doing.

"Oh, what is zis?" asked France smugly. "Excited, aren't we?"

"Add another finger," Canada said very quickly.

"So demanding!" exclaimed France. "Who's ze teacher here? But oh well. I was going to do that anyway, HONHONHON …"

France started to slide another finger inside. Canada was involuntarily clenching again, and he had a hard time fitting them both in.

"Push against me …"

Canada obeyed, and France slid both digits completely inside. Once fully up to the knuckle again, France resumed his pace, sliding along the tight, quivering walls, searching for that spot.

"You know …" began France, still gradually speeding his fingers' thrusting. "… ze say ze prostate is ze male G-spot."

"Y-yeah?" panted Canada, holding on tightly to the sheets.

"Oui~" France continued to finger fuck him as he spoke, never wavering in his pace. "In fact, zey say if you hit it right, it is like having an orgasm after orgasm after orgasm."

"Oh," whimpered Canada. He was imagining it as France spoke.

"Zat is, if you don't cum instantly."

Canada wriggled his hips anxiously. "Find it."

"I am trying."

France angled his fingers so that when he thrust he hit Canada in slightly different places inside him. He listened carefully for a noise, a gasp, a yelp, something to give it away when he finally found it.

"Once you learn …" Now even France was straining for breath, as he was getting quite the workout. "… you can do this at home to yourself. Finger yourself all day long. Find your sweet spot and hit it over and over, make yourself le cum without ever even touching your cock, until you finally collapse from exhaustion."

The thin, clear fluid of precum dribbled off of Canada's cock and onto his stomach.

"Oh." France saw that. "You like zat idea, don't you?"

"Oui~" answered Canada in his Quebec accent.

"Heh heh …" chuckled France. "I've taught you well."

"You're not done teaching." Canada rocked down on France's fingers, encouraging him on. "You've still gotta show me where this spot is."

"We shall find it."

A minute or two longer of fingering, and Canada couldn't stand it any longer.

"This is taking too long," he complained.

"So rude!" exclaimed France. "Normally you're so polite! I am doing my le best."

Canada was getting frustrated. Sexually frustrated. He'd been aroused for so long. His cock ached for release. Actually, it ached just to be touched. The penetration was driving it wild. Yet it was neither touched nor allowed to cum, it just stayed in a maddening limbo, making Canada crazy.

"Zough I do have a suggestion to speed things up," said France.

"What is it?" Canada asked very quickly.

"Perhaps my fingers aren't enough," he said. "Perhaps not long enough, perhaps not shaped exactly right to hit the perfect angle …"

"… yeah?"

"Canada …" France grinned down at him, in a way that would have made Canada very uncomfortable a little while ago, but now only make him more aroused. "… would you like … LE COCK?"

Canada knew that was coming. He could see it France's eyes. And also in his underpants. There was quite a bulge now, and that bathrobe did little to conceal it when open like that. Canada made himself exhale and said, "You're the teacher."

"HONHONHON."

France slid his fingers out. Canada was disappointed, suddenly feeling emptiness, almost as if France's fingers should always be in him and it was wrong if they weren't. But France needed both hands. He was hastily peeling his bathrobe off and it joined Canada's pants on the back of that nearby chair. France had only boxers on under that bathrobe. Canada watched anxiously as France gripped the top of them and rolled the garment down and off.

When France was naked before him, Canada gaped in awe. For two very different reasons.

Firstly, France was very hairy. Everywhere. His chest, his stomach, his legs, and yes, he had quite a lot of pubic hair. Especially a lot of pubic hair. The jungle of hair climbed around the tops of his thighs, and up his stomach, forming into a treasure trail leading up to his belly button. France watched Canada's eyes travel that trail, only they went down from his navel to his crotch, where they remained. Locked in awe.

France smirked smugly. "I see you noticed my ample body hair. It is ze mark of a real man, no?"

Canada couldn't tear his eyes away. "Uh …"

"Shaving is for bourgeois Americans," said France. "PEH!"

And there was another thing Canada was still in shock about …

He stared at France's hardened length with bulging eyes. "IS THAT GONNA FIT? !"

"My." France crawled closer to Canada, stopping where he was before, between Canada's spread legs. "I have never heard quiet Canada be so loud."

"Y-y-you're huge," he stammered, still staring at nothing but France's cock. "That's a lot more to take than just your fingers!"

"It will fit."

"How do you know?"

"I am ze teacher."

Canada made himself take another deep breath and exhale. Yes, that's right, he told himself. France was teaching him, just like he had since he was a child. He was the only one who didn't lie to him, so why would he lie now? After all, he seemed to know what he was talking about.

"Well, I am pretty sure anyway," France said, rubbing his hairy chin. "Lube works wonders."

"EH? !" choked Canada. "Pretty sure? !"

"Well, it certainly isn't going to fit if you're that worked up over it!"

"B-but—"

"Relax yourself! Or you're right, it might not fit."

Canada felt himself sweat with nervousness.

"… zat or it will just hurt very, very much."

"OH MAPLE GOD!"

Canada suddenly flinched. He gasped as he felt France's finger lightly touch the tip of his cock. It was the first time anyone else had ever touched him there. France pulled his fingers away, now wet with precum.

"Look how excited zis made you become though," said France. "Enough came out that I don't even need to find my lube again. Zis is enough to make me slick for you." France gripped his own cock. He slowly stroked it, coating himself in Canada's juices.

"No, no, no," said Canada, squirming. "Get the real lube! We need as much as we can get for this!"

"Shhh," hushed France. "The truth is zat it's all ze way on ze nightstand and I don't feel like getting it now."

"But it's right there …"

"Non! It will be fine."

"You lazy little–" Canada didn't finish.

Because France climbed on top of him. France's knees and one arm supported his weight as he straddled over him. Canada looked up, saw the hairy body looming on top of him, and swallowed audibly. This was it. This was real, and it was happening.

France's other hand was gripping his cock. "Remember to relax," he told Canada. "And push against me if you feel like it's too tight."

Canada's heart was racing. He raised his head so that he could watch. He was doing this to learn, after all. Well, that's what he told himself. It was why he started, but at this point, he was mostly doing this because he was horny and when you're horny you don't always rationalize everything.

His eyes were locked down at their waists. He watched France gripping his cock and line it up with his entrance. Maybe he shouldn't watch, Canada thought. Because then he'd know the exact moment France would enter him, and he'd tense up in anticipation. But he couldn't look away. He was so curious. He wanted to see himself penetrated.

He watched, unblinking, as France lined up and slid himself in. He couldn't believe it. The way he saw those inches disappear into himself one by one. The farther France sheathed himself, the wider Canada's eyes grew.

They were practically bulging off his head when France had entered him completely, filling him to the hilt. France's balls rested against Canada's ass as he paused, allowing Canada to adjust to the thickness.

And Canada needed that pause. He was clawing at the sheets, twisting them in his fingers as he held on. It was so much pressure. So much more than just two fingers. He held his breath without realizing it.

"Relax," said France, who sounded strained. Canada was quite tight around him.

Canada finally let out the breath. "A-all right," he said, his voice very uneasy. "Keep going."

France rocked against him. "I told you it would fit, didn't I?"

"Barely," panted Canada.

France thrust, gradually building up a rhythm. "It's inside. Zat is what I promised."

"You promised to show me out the prostate works."

"Heh."

Canada was still lifting his head to watch. He watched France's cock disappear and reappear from inside him. He saw his asshole adjust and swallow France up. Which surprised him, because he was so new to this. Well, France did know what he was doing, after all …

France penetrated him deeply, searching for that spot. He grunted as he strained, adjusting his angle slightly every few thrusts.

Canada writhed under him. He had to stop watching and let his head fall against the pillow. It was so much pressure, he had to turn his head into the pillow and muffle his whimpers with it.

"What was zat?" asked France, panting for breath.

Canada faced France again. "Nothing."

"Come now."

"I'm trying."

"Heh – I didn't mean zat come."

"Oh … um, oops—"

"I meant, come on. Tell me what you were going to say."

Canada shuddered from a particularly hard thrust. He hadn't been saying anything, at least nothing in English (nor French, actually), just whimpering noises. But this was an opportunity to say something he'd wanted to admit since the topic came up.

"I masturbated to your picture."

"SACRE BLEU!" exclaimed France, whose perfect rhythm derailed for a moment.

Canada looked away shyly. "I can't believe I just admitted that …"

"WELL! I can't say I blame you." France smirked down at him, sweat beading on his forehead as he thrust. "I'm a very good looking man. Who wouldn't pleasure zemselves to a picture of my likeness?"

"Oh …" Canada looked even more embarrassed. "I didn't mean that kind of picture. I meant the one you drew for me when I was a kid."

There was a silence. Well, at least their voices. There was a still the wet, slapping sound of skin sliding against skin.

Finally France said slyly, "… go on …"

"Oh! Um." Canada hesitated. "Well, I put that picture away for a while after you gave it to me. Actually, I forgot about it."

France's pace was back to normal. "Go on …"

Canada gasped but then relaxed himself to speak. "I-I forgot about it until I hit puberty," he said, his breath labored. "One night I just couldn't stop having dirty thoughts … I don't know how old I was, some time as a teenager … anyway, I thought about what you'd told me and I went to find that picture you drew."

France continued to rock against Canada's body. "Uh huh … go on …"

"Wellllll … I pulled it out. And then I pulled it out. I think you know what I mean. And I stared at that picture as I touched myself for the first time."

"Keep going …" said France. "I very much like zis story."

"Oh, uh, okay. Well, I thought about the things you'd told me, and I thought about what might feel good, so I tried it. And I stroked myself thinking about all that stuff and looking at what you drew … and that's how I learned to masturbate."

"Did you think of me?"

Canada hesitated. "Um. Sometimes."

"… sometimes? Wait, how many times did you masturbate to my picture?"

"I don't know!" he exclaimed. "I lost count! It was the only way I ever masturbated until the photograph was invented." He stared at his pillow, because everywhere else seemed too awkward. "And even then, I still used that drawing sometimes."

"My goodness," said France. "I think you know what I'm going to say to zat."

"… what?"

"HONHONHON."

"… oh."

"Well, I'm happy to have helped," said France. "It seems fitting, after all. I first told you about sex and here I am taking your virginity—"

"AHH!" A strangled yelp interrupted France.

"Oh." France smirked. He aimed for the spot that he'd just thrust into. When he hit it again, Canada gasped and immediately rolled his head to bite into the pillow. "I believe I have found zat spot, Canada. Shall I continue here?"

Canada spit the pillow out of his mouth and vigorously nodded yes.

"HONHONHON."

France thrust deeply, forcefully into that spot that had made Canada cry out. The faster he pumped into it, the louder Canada whimpered.

"Oh, God …" Canada sobbed. "Y-you were right, France."

"Oh?"

Canada made a choking noise, then swallowed down his strangled breath. "It-it does … feel like … having an orgasm after orgasm … after … ahhh …" He couldn't finish his sentence, just trailing off into a soft moan.

"Judging by your face … I can tell."

Canada could feel that pressure building but didn't want it to end. He could live like that forever. Just wave after wave after wave of ecstasy. He squeezed his eyes shut as he let it wash over him.

Then he felt himself finally be pushed over the edge. He came, hard, shooting one of the biggest loads of his entire life. It came in multiple spurts as his prostate was milked dry, still being repeatedly struck over and over. His stomach was coated white.

But all Canada saw was black.

His vision tunneled. As he felt the last drops empty out of him, blackness closed in as a circle, until everything went dark.

Oh, and Canada never did finish that beaver report.

X

Canada woke up the next morning in France's arms. He was spooning Canada from behind.

Canada felt dizzy and lightheaded and it took a minute for him to remember what had even happened. He moved, trying to peel himself from France's grasp. But as he did, he realized he was also connected to him by dried, crusty fluids from last night.

France probably should have known to clean up afterwards.

France awoke when he felt Canada move. Canada flipped around so that he faced France.

"Good morning."

France yawned. "Oui, good morning. Enjoy yourself last night?"

Canada blushed. "Yeah … though I think I blacked out at the end though."

France yawned again. He wasn't much of a morning person. "Yes, zat is another thing I probably should have told you. It is rare, but sometimes people pass out after especially intense orgasms. All ze blood is too concentrated in your pelvis and not enough goes to your brain."

"Uh, thanks for the information, Encyclopedia Britannica."

"BRITANNICA? !" That woke France up. "Don't compare me to that limey eyebrow bastard!"

"Oh, haha, oops. I meant to make a joke about how clinical that sounded … I blew it."

"Hmm, well, instead of sounding so factual zen I shall word it like zis … I fucked your brains out last night."

Canada blushed even harder. "Uh …"

"Did I satisfy your curiosity?"

"Hmm." Canada hesitated, then smirked. "Well, actually, I'm wondering about something else now."

"Oh?"

"I'm curious what it's like to switch things up."

"Ah. Well, what did you have in mind zen?"

"… uh, I meant literally. Switching. I wanna top."

"SACRE BLEU!" exclaimed France. Then he said calmly, "Actually, I sort of expected zat."

"So … can we do it?"

"Hmmm." France thought on it, then pointed to the door. "Go get me some of ze free continental breakfast and then we'll see where things take us. I need fuel to recharge."

Canada got dressed faster than he ever had in his life.

He raced downstairs and into the hotel breakfast nook. He headed straight for the food, set out in buffet style, and started grabbing some without even looking to see what exactly it was.

The only others in the room were America and England. America was scarfing down some doughnuts as England sat in front of a bowl of oatmeal.

"Yo, England," said America. He didn't notice Canada was in the room. Though that was nothing new. "It says on the doughnut box 'America runs on Dunkin.' HAHA!" He stuffed another doughnut in his face. "It's kinda true!"

England's eyes were slowly shutting. His head nodded down until America snapped his fingers, jolting him awake.

"Dude, don't fall asleep while I'm talking to you!" he said, talking with his mouth full. "So rude! What terrible manners you have." He spewed crumbs everywhere.

"Pffft," cracked up Canada, knowing America couldn't hear him anyway.

Except this time, he did. "Whoa, Canada! I didn't know you were here!"

"Oh, now you notice me …" muttered Canada. "Only when it's inconvenient for me … of course …"

"Check out Sleepy McSleepypants over here!" America pointed to England. "He can't even stay awake, haha! I hope he falls asleep face first in his oatmeal."

"America … what the heck are you doing here? This is your country. Why do you need a hotel?"

"You know what, Canada? Shut up. Because I have a question for you."

"Eh?"

"Who's got two thumbs and totally got laid last night?" America made two thumbs up and pointed them at himself. "THIS GUYYYYYY!"

Canada face-palmed. "Oh, God, why did I even ask …"

"Why do you think sleepyhead over here can't stay awake?" America pointed to England again, who was inches away from planting his face in his oatmeal. "I WORE HIM RAGGED LAST NIGHT!"

"Sorry I asked, sheesh!" Canada was backing away, holding the food in his arms. He wanted out of his conversation.

"Yeah, when's the last time you got any action, huh?"

Canada furrowed his brow. "Last night, if you must know."

"PFFFT! Yeah, I bet you had a good time with your hand."

But Canada was walking out into the lobby, head held high. He knew the truth.

But that didn't stop America from yelling after him. "JUST SO YOU KNOW!" he shouted extremely loudly. "THEY HAVE FREE PORN SAMPLES! THEY'RE ONLY LIKE THIRTY SECONDS LONG BUT IF YOU WATCH A FEW IN A ROW THAT'S ALL YOU NEED, YA KNOW? !"

The whole lobby heard. All sorts of people — men, women, even children — turned their heads.

But Canada wasn't paying attention. "I DON'T EVEN NEED THAT!" he shouted back. "FRANCE'S PICTURE WAS ALL I NEEDED AND NOW I HAVE THE REAL THING!"

Okay. Then he noticed all the people staring.

And promptly raced back up the stairs in embarrassment.

America choked on his doughnut. "HAHAHA WHAT? !"

(Le end!)


End file.
